They were a three-car caravan of miserable human beings as they drove through town on the way to confess their sins to Cady Jordan.

Cady looked up when she saw a shadow fall across the booth she was sitting in. “Jill, what are you doing here?”

Instead of answering Cady, Jill looked around the seedy bar called the Drop Zone, and said, “So this is what it looks like. I always wondered. Interesting clientele,” she said, pointing to the bar with its tattooed, ponytailed, Harley jocks. Cady offered up a sickly smile as Jill slid into the booth. “A Bud Light in the bottle,” she said to the bartender.

“You didn’t answer my question, Jill. What are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you.” There was no way she was going to lie to this miserable young woman she wanted to be friends with. “The police chief, the one you call Boomer, came to the hospital and told us what happened. It was my idea to come after you, not theirs. Andy called me from Amy’s house and asked me to pick him up. He’s a basket case right now. So are the others. If it’s any consolation to you, your friend Boomer looks about as miserable as a man can look and still function.”

“Good,” Cady snapped. “I was actually contemplating going to bed with him tonight. He lied to me. They all damn well lied about me and to me. If there’s one thing in this life I hate, it’s someone who lies and takes advantage of someone else for their own benefit. I’m not really very good company, so maybe you should leave. I’m just going to sit here and drink and think. I’ll call Anthony to come and pick me up when I’ve had enough.”

“I wasn’t very good company that day in the cemetery either, but you stuck with me. I was hoping we could be friends. That means friends stick together. It also means if you planned on getting soused, I’m getting soused with you. You okay with that?”

Cady thought about it. “I’ve already had two beers. This is my third.”

“We’ll play catch-up. I’m pretty much of a social drinker these days, but in college I could hold my own. You want to see someone who can put it away, you should see Amy. Andy’s a beer after he mows the grass kind of guy.”

“I didn’t know that. I always liked Andy. I liked Pete, too. I wanted to like Amy, but it was hard. It was that twin thing. I guess if you aren’t a twin, you just don’t understand the closeness twins share to the exclusion of other friends.”

The two women sat quietly, their eyes on the men at the bar as they drank from their respective bottles. Finally, Jill said, “I used to buy into that.” She held up her empty beer bottle for the bartender’s scrutiny.

Cady moved the beer bottle back and forth on the table, creating wet circles that ran into one another. “Have you heard any more about Amy’s condition?”